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Bitterroot Creek

Bitterroot Creek BITTERROOT CREEK Tonya Northenor Bitterroot Creek has been a good place to spend a life. There's plenty of water, though sometimes too much when the hills moan with their motherly burden and send all that water heavily down. This creek is where they washed out the sheets I was birthed on. This spot the place I baptized my own girl-babe that never drew breath. Where I washed my wounds and soaked my slowly, daily wrinkling hands. Sometimes, when my Saul's at work and I'm tired of fixing his supper and listening to the wind walk through the wall-cracks I go sit in the creek in just my shift. Let the water rock me like my long-gone mother. Allow little fish to swim up and kiss my toes. I lower my body beyond my breast tips; the slight pink of myself flows down this creek like a ribbon. I'll be the last thread, last generation ever to draw living water from this stream. http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

Bitterroot Creek

Tonya Northenor
Appalachian Review , Volume 36 (2) – May 9, 2008
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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2008 Berea College
ISSN
1940-5081
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

BITTERROOT CREEK Tonya Northenor Bitterroot Creek has been a good place to spend a life. There's plenty of water, though sometimes too much when the hills moan with their motherly burden and send all that water heavily down. This creek is where they washed out the sheets I was birthed on. This spot the place I baptized my own girl-babe that never drew breath. Where I washed my wounds and soaked my slowly, daily wrinkling hands. Sometimes, when my Saul's at work and I'm tired of fixing his supper and listening to the wind walk through the wall-cracks I go sit in the creek in just my shift. Let the water rock me like my long-gone mother. Allow little fish to swim up and kiss my toes. I lower my body beyond my breast tips; the slight pink of myself flows down this creek like a ribbon. I'll be the last thread, last generation ever to draw living water from this stream.

Journal

Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press

Published: May 9, 2008

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